S60 
svie 


SWEET 


AND 


TWENTY 

BY 

FLOYD  DELL 


Stewart  Kidd 

MODERN  PLAYS 

EDITED  BY 

FRANK  SHAY 


Stewart  Kidd  Dramatic  Anthologies 

Fifty  Contemporary  One-Act  Plays 

Edited  by 
FRANK  SHAY  and  PIERRE  LOVING 

THIS  volume  contains  FIFTY  REPRESENTATIVE  ONE-ACT  PLAYS 
of  the  MODERN  THEATER,  chosen  from  the  dramatic  works  of  con- 
temporary writers  all  over  the  world  and  is  the  second  volume  in  the 
Stewart  Kidd  Dramatic  Anthologies,  the  first  being  European  Theories  of  the 
Drama,  by  Barrett  H.  Clark,  which  has  been  so  enthusiastically  received. 

The  editors  have  scrupulously  sifted  countless  plays  and  have  selected  the 
best  available  in  English.  One-half  the  plays  have  never  before  been  pub- 
lished in  book  form;  thirty-one  are  no  longer  available  in  any  other  edition. 
The  work  satisfies  a  long-felt  want  for  a  handy  collection  of  the  choicest 
plays  produced  by  the  art  theaters  all  over  the  world.  It  is  a  complete  reper- 
tory for  a  little  theater,  a  volume  for  the  study  of  the  modern  drama,  a  rep- 
resentative collection  of  the  world's  best  short  plays. 

CONTENTS 


AUSTRIA 

Schnitzler    (Arthur) — Literature 
BELGIUM 

Maeterlinck    (Maurice)— The    Intruder 
BOLIVIA 

More  (Federico) — Interlude 
FRANCE 

Ancey  (George) — M.  Lamblin 

Porto- Riche  (Georges) — Francoise's  Luck 
GERMANY 

Ettinger  (Karl) — Altruism 

von  HofmannstLal  (Hugo) — Madonna  Dia- 
nora 

Wedekind  (Frank)— The  Tenor 
GREAT   BRITAIN 

Bennett   (Arnold)— A   Good   "Woman 

Calderon     (George)— The     Little     Stone 
House. 

Cannan   (Gilbert)— Mary's  Wedding 

Dowson  (Ernest) — The  Pierrot  of  the  Min- 
ute. 

Ellis    (Mrs.    Havelock) — The    Subjection 
of  Kezia 

Hankin  (St.  John) — The  Constant  Lover 
INDIA 

Mukerji  (Dhan  Gopal) — The  Judgment  of 
Indra 
IRELAND 

Gregory    (Lady) — The   Workhouse   Ward 
HOLLAND 

Speenhoff  (J.  H.) — Louise 
HUNGARY 

Biro    (Lajos) — The    Grandmother 
ITALY 

Giocosa    (Giuseppe) — The   Rights   of   the 
Soul 
RUSSIA 

Andreyev  (Leonid) — Love  of  One's  Neigh- 
bor 

Tchekoff  (Anton) — The  Boor 


SPAIN 

Benevente    (Jacinto) — His  Widow's   Hus- 
band 
Quinteros  (Serafina  and  Joaquin  Alverez) 

— A  Sunny  Morning 
SWEDEN 

Strindberg  (August) — The  Creditor 
Wied   (Gustave) — Autumn  Fires 
UNITED  STATES 

Beach  (Lewis) — Brothers 
Cowan  (Sada) — In  the  Morgue 
Crocker  (Bosworth) — The  Baby  Carriage 
Cronyn  (George  W.) — A  Death  in  Fever 

Flat 
Davies   (Mary  Carolyn) — The  Slave  with 

Two  Faces 
Day  (Frederick  L.) — The  Slump 
Flanner  (Hildegard) — Mansions 
Glaspell  (Susan) — Trifles 
Gerstenberg  (Alice) — The  Pot  Boiler 
Helburn  (Theresa) — Enter  the  Hero 
Hudson  (Holland) — The  Shepherd  in  the 

Distance 
Kemp  (Harry) — Boccaccio's  Untold  Tale 
Langner   (Lawrence) — Another   Way  Out 
MacMillan   (Mary) — The  Shadowed   Star 
Millay  (Edna  St.  Vincent) — Aro  da  Capo 
Moeller    (Philip) — Helena's   Husband 
O'Neill  (Eugene)- He 
Stevens    (Thomas    Wood) — The    Nursery 

Maid  of  Heaven 
Stevens  (Wallace) — Three  Travelers  Watch 

a  Sunrise 
Tompkins  (Frank  G.) — Sham 
Waffeer  (Stuart)— The  Medicine  Show 
Wellman  (Rita)— For  All  Time 
Wilde  (Percival) — The  Finger  of  God 
YIDDISH 

Ash  (Sholom)— Night 

Pinski  (David) — Forgotten  Souls 


Large  8vo,  j<?j  pages.     Net,  $^.oo 


Send  for  Complete  Dramatic  Catalogue 

STEWART    KIDD   COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS,  -  -  CINCINNATI,  U.  S.  A. 


STEWART  KIDD  MODERN  PLAYS 
Edited  by  Frank  Shay 


IW 


SWEET  AND  TWENTY 


Stewart  Kidd  Modern  Plays 
Edited  by  FRANK  SHAY 

To  meet  the  immensely  increased  demands  of  the  play-reading  public 
and  those  interested  in  the  modern  drama,  Stewart  Kidd  are  issuing 
under  the  general  editorship  of  Frank  Shay  a  series  of  plays  from  the  pens 
of  the  world's  best  contemporary  writers.  No  effort  is  being  spared  to 
secure  the  best  work  available,  and  the  plays  are  issued  in  a  form  that  is 
at  once  attractive  to  readers  and  suited  to  the  needs  of  the  performer 
and  producer.  Buffalo  Express:  "Each  play  is  of  merit.  Each  is  unlike 
the  other.  The  group  furnishes  a  striking  example  [of  the  realistic  trend 
of  the  modern  drama." 

From  time  to  time  special  announcements  will  be  printed  giving  com- 
plete lists  of  the  plays. 

SHAM,  a  Social  Satire  in  One  Act.     By  Frank  G.  Tompkins. 
Originally  produced  by  Sam  Hume,  at  the  Arts  and  Crafts  Theatre, 

Detroit. 
San  Francisco  Bulletin:     "The  lines  are  new  and  many  of  them 
are  decidedly  clever." 
Providence  Journal :    "An  ingenious  and  merry  little  one-act  play." 

THE  SHEPHERD  IN  THE  DISTANCE,  a  Pantomime  in 
One  Act.     By  Holland  Hudson. 

Originally  produced  by  the  Washington  Square  Players. 

Oakland  Tribune:     "A  pleasing  pantomime  of  the  Ancient  East." 

MANSIONS,  a  Play  in  One  Act.       By  Hildegarde  Flanner. 
Originally  produced  by  the  Indiana  Little  Theatre  Society. 
Three  Arts  Magazine :     "This  thoughtful  and  well-written  play  of 
Characters  and  Ideals  has  become  a  favorite  with  Little  Theatres 
and  is  now  available  in  print." 

HEARTS  TO  MEND,  a  Fantasy  in  One  Act. 

By  H.  A.  Over  street. 
Originally  produced  by  the  Fireside  Players,  White  Plains,  N.  Y. 
St.  Louis  Star :     "It  is  a  light  whimsy  and  well  carried  out." 
San  Francisco  Chronicle:      "No  one  is  likely  to  hear  or   read   it 
without  real  and  legitimate  pleasure." 

SIX  WHO  PASS  WHILE  THE  LENTILS  BOIL. 

By  Stuart  Walker. 
Originally  produced  by  the  Portmanteau  Players  at  Christodora 

House,  New  York  City. 
Brooklyn  Eagle :     "Literary  without  being  pedantic,  and  dramatic 
without  being  noisy." 

OTHERS  TO  FOLLOW.    Bound  in  Art  Paper.    Each,  net,  .50 


Sweet  and  Twenty 


A  COMEDY  IN  ONE  ACT 


By 

FLOYD  DELL 

Author  of 
MOON  CALF 


First  produced  by  the  Provincetown  Players,  New  York  City 
January  25,  1918,  with  the  following  cast: 

THE  YOUNG  WOMAN         -         -         -  Edna  Si.  Vincent  Mtllay 

THE  YOUNG  MAN Ordway  Tead 

THE  AGENT Otto  Liver ighl 

THE  GUARD Louis  Ell 


STEWART  &  KIDD 


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STEWART  KIDD  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


MAIfl  UB, 


COPYRIGHT,  I921 

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All  rights  reserved 

COPYRIGHT  IN  ENGLAND 


Sweet  and  Twenty  is  fully  protected  by  the  copyright  law, 
all  requirements  of  which  have  been  complied  with.  No  perform- 
ance, either  professional  or  amateur,  may  be  given  without  the 
written  permission  of  the  author  or  his  representative,  i  tewart 
Kidd  Company,  Cincinnati,  Ohio. 


%0 

1)351 
su~e. 

Sweet  and  Twenty 

Scene — A  corner  of  the  cherry  orchard  on  the  coun- 
try place  of  the  late  Mr.  Boggley^  now  on  sale  and 
open  for  inspection  to  prospective  buyers.  The 
cherry  orchard ^  now  in  full  bloom ^  is  a  very 
pleasant  place.  There  is  a  green-painted  rustic 
bench  beside  the  path. 

{This  scene  can  be  effectively  produced  on  a  small 
stage  by  a  back-drop  painted  a  blue-green  color ,  with 
a  single  conventionalized  cherry  branch  painted 
across  it,  and  two  three-leaved  screens  masking  the 
wings  J  painted  in  blue-green  with  a  spray  of  cherry 
blossoms). 

A  young  woman,  dressed  in  a  light  summer  frock 
and  carrying  a  parasol,  drifts  in  from  the  back. 
She  sees  the  bench,  comes  over  to  it  and  sits  down 
with  an  air  of  petulant  weariness. 

A  handsome  young  man  enters  from  the  right.  He 
stops  short  in  surprise  on  seeing  the  charming 
stranger  who  lolls  upon  the  bench.  He  takes  off 
his  hat. 

HE 

Ohj  I  beg  your  pardon! 

SHE 

Oh,  you  needn't!     IVe  no  right   to  be  here, 
either. 

HE 

(Coming  down  to  her)     Now  what  do  you  mean 
by  that? 

SHE 

I    thought   perhaps   you   were   playing   truant, 
as  I  am. 

5 

812 


SWEET  AND  TWENTY 


HE 

Playing  truant? 

SHE 

I  was  looking  at  the  house,  you  know.  And  I 
got  tired  and  ran  away. 

HE 

Well,  to  tell  the  truth,  so  did  I.  It's  dull  work, 
isn't  it? 

SHE 

Fve  been  upstairs  and  down  for  two  hours. 
That  family  portrait  gallery  finished  me.  It 
was  so  old  and  gloomy  and  dead  that  I  felt  as 
if  I  were  dead  myself.  I  just  had  to  do  some- 
thing. I  wanted  to  jab  my  parasol  through  the 
window-pane.  I  understood  just  how  the  suf- 
fragettes felt.  But  I  was  afraid  of  shocking 
the  agent.  He  is  such  a  meek  little  man,  and 
he  seemed  to  think  so  well  of  me.  If  I  had 
broken  the  window  I  would  have  shattered  his 
ideals  of  womanhood,  too,  I'm  afraid.  So  I 
just  slipped  away  quietly  and  came  here. 

HE 

I've  only  been  there  half  an  hour  and  we — 
I've  only  been  in  the  basement.  That's  why 
our  tours  of  inspection  didn't  bring  us  together 
sooner.  I've  been  cross-examining  the  furnace. 
Do  you  understand  furnaces?  {He  sits  down 
beside  her)    I  don't. 

SHE 

Do  you  like  family  portraits?     I  hate  'em! 

HE 

What!  Do  the  family  portraits  go  with  the 
house  ? 


SWEET  AND  TWENTY 


SHE 


No,  thank  heaven.  They've  been  bequeathed 
to  the  Metropolitan  Museum  of  Horrors,  I  un- 
derstand. They're  valuable  historically— early 
colonial  governors  and  all  that  sort  of  stuff. 
But  there  is  someone  with  me  who— who  takes 
a  deep  interest  in  such  things. 


HE 


{frowning  at  a  sudden  memory)  Hm.  Didn't 
I  see  you  at  that  real  estate  office  in  New  York 
yesterday? 

SHE 

Yes.    He  was  with  me  then. 

HE  (compassionately) 

I— I  thought  I  remembered  seeing  you  with— 

with  him 

SHE  {cheerfully)  . 

Isn't  he  just  the  sort  of  man  who  would  be  m- 
terested  in  family  portraits? 

HE  {confused) 

Well — since  you  ask  me — I — ! 

SHE 

Oh,  that's  all  right.  Tubby's  a  dear,  m  spite 
of  his  funny  old  ideas.     I  like  him  very  much. 

HE 

{gulping  the  pill)     Yes.     .     .     . 

SHE 

He's  so  anxious  to  please  me  in  buying  this 
house.  I  suppose  it's  all  right  to  have  a  house, 
but  I'd  like  to  become  acquainted  with  it  grad- 
ually. I'd  like  to  feel  that  there  was  always 
some    corner    left    to    explore— some    mystery 

7 


SWEET  AND  TWENTY 


saved  up  for  a  rainy  day.  Tubby  can't  under- 
stand that.  He  drags  me  everywhere,  explain- 
ing how  we'll  keep  this  and  change  that — 
dormer  windows  here  and  perhaps  a  new  wing 
there.  ...  I  suppose  youVe  been  re- 
building the  house,  too.^ 

HE 

No.  Merely  decided  to  turn  that  sunny  south 
room  into  a  study.  It  would  make  a  very 
pleasant  place  to  work.  But  if  you  really  want 
the  place,  I'd  hate  to  take  it  away  from  you. 

SHE 

I  was  just  going  to  say  that  \i you  really  wanted 
it,  Fd  withdraw.  It  was  Tubby's  idea  to  buy 
it,  you  know — not  mine.  You  do  want  it,  don't 
you? 

HE 

I  can't  say  that  I  do.     It's  so  infernally  big. 
But  Maria   thinks  I   ought   to  have  it.      {Ex- 
planatorily)    Maria  is — 
SHE  {gently) 

She's — the  one  who  is  interested  in  furnaces, 
I  understand.  I  saw  her  with  you  at  the  real- 
estate  office  yesterday.  Well — furnaces  are 
necessary,  I  suppose.  {There  is  a  pause ^  which 
she  breaks  suddenly)     Do  you  see  that  bee? 

HE 

A  bee  ?  {He  follows  her  gaze  up  to  a  cluster  of 
blossoms.) 

SHE 

Yes — there !  {Affectionately)  The  rascal !  There 
he  goes.  {Their  eyes  follow  the  flight  of  the  bee 
across  the  orchard.     There  is  a  silence^  in  which 

8 


SWEET  AND  TWENTY 


Maria  and  Tubby  drift  into  the  limbo  of  forgotten 
things.  Alone  together  beneath  the  blossoms^  a 
spell  seems  to  have  fallen  upon  them.  She  tries  to 
think  of  something  to  say — and  at  last  succeeds.) 

SHE 

Have  you  heard  the  story  of  the  people  who 
used  to  live  here? 

HE 

No;  why? 

SHE 

An  agent  was  telling  us.  It's  quite  romantic — 
and  rather  sad.  You  see,  the  man  that  built 
this  house  was  in  love  with  a  girl.  He  was 
building  it  for  her — as  a  surprise.  But  he  had 
neglected  to  mention  to  her  that  he  was  in  love 
with  her.  And  so,  in  pique,  she  married  an- 
other man,  though  she  was  really  in  love  with 
him.  The  news  came  just  when  he  had  finished 
the  house.  He  shut  it  up  for  a  year  or  two,  but 
eventually  married  someone  else,  and  they  lived 
here  for  ten  years — most  unhappily.  Then 
they  went  abroad,  and  the  house  was  sold.  It 
was  bought,  curiously  enough,  by  the  husband 
of  the  girl  he  had  been  in  love  with.  They  lived 
here  till  they  died — hating  each  other  to  the 
end,  the  agent  says. 

HE 

It  gives  me  the  shivers.    To  think  of  that  house, 
haunted    by    the    memories    of    wasted    love! 
Which  of  us,  I  wonder,  will  have  to  live  in  it? 
I  don't  want  to. 
SHE  {prosaically) 

Oh,  don't  take  it  so  seriously  as  all  that.     If 

9 


SWEET  AND  TWENTY 


one  can't  live  in  a  house  where  there's  been  an 
unhappy  marriage,  why,  good  heavens,  where 
is  one  going  to  hve?  Most  marriages,  I  fancy, 
are  unhappy. 

HE 

A  bitter  philosophy  for  one  so — 

SHE 

Nonsense!  But  listen  to  the  rest  of  the  story. 
The  most  interesting  part  is  about  this  very 
orchard. 

HE 

Really! 

SHE 

Yes.  This  orchard,  it  seems,  was  here  before 
the  house  was.  It  was  part  of  an  old  farm 
where  he  and  she — the  unhappy  lovers,  you 
know — stopped  one  day,  while  they  were  out 
driving,  and  asked  for  something  to  eat.  The 
farmer's  wife  was  busy,  but  she  gave  them 
each  a  glass  of  milk,  and  told  them  they  could 
eat  all  the  cherries  they  wanted.  So  they 
picked  a  hatful  of  cherries,  and  ate  them,  sit- 
ting on  a  bench  like  this  one.  And  then  he  fell 
in  love  with  her.     .     .     . 

HE 

And  .  .  .  didn't  tell  her  so.  .  .  .  (She 
glances  at  him  in  alarm.  His  self -possession  has 
vanished.  He  is  pale  and  frightened^  but  there  is 
a  desperate  look  in  his  eyes,  as  if  some  unknown 
power  were  forcing  him  to  do  something  very  rash. 
In  short,  he  seems  like  a  young  man  who  has  just 
fallen  in  love,) 

lO 


SWEET  AND  TWENTY 


SHE  (hastily) 

So  you  see  this  orchard  is  haunted,  too! 

HE 

I  feel  it.  I  seem  to  hear  the  ghost  of  that  old- 
time  lover  whispering  to  me.     .     .     . 

SHE  {provocatively) 

Indeed!    What  does  he  say? 

HE 

He  says:  *T  was  a  coward;  you  must  be  bold. 
I  was  silent;  you  must  speak  out." 

SHE   {mischievously) 

That's  very  curious — because  that  old  lover 
isn't  dead  at  all.  He's  a  baronet  or  something 
in  England. 

HE  {earnestly) 

His  youth  is  dead;  and  it  is  his  youth  that 
speaks  to  me. 

SHE   {quickly) 

You  mustn't  believe  all  that  ghosts  tell  you. 

HE 

Oh,  but  I  must.  For  they  know  the  folly  of 
silence — the  bitterness  of  cowardice. 

SHE 

The  circumstances  were — slightly — different, 
weren't  they? 

HE  {stubbornly) 
I  don't  care! 

SHE  {soberly) 

You  know  perfectly  well  it's  no  use. 

HE 

I  can't  help  that! 

n    . 


SWEET  AND  TWENTY 


SHE 

Please!    You  simply  mustn't!    It's  disgraceful! 

HE 

What's  disgraceful? 

SHE  {confused) 

What  you  are  going  to  say. 

HE  {simply) 

Only  that  I  love  you.  What  is  there  disgrace- 
ful about  that?     It's  beautiful! 

SHE 

It's  wrong. 

HE 

It's  inevitable. 

SHE 

Why  inevitable?  Can't  you  talk  with  a  girl  in 
a  cherry  orchard  for  half  an  hour  without  fall- 
ing in  love  with  her? 

HE 

Not  if  the  girl  is  you. 

SHE 

But  why  especially  me? 

HE 

I  don't  know.  Love — is  a  mystery.  I  only 
know  that  I  was  destined  to  love  you. 

SHE 

How  can  you  be  so  sure? 

HE 

Because  you  have  changed  the  world  for  me. 
It's  as  though  I  had  been  groping  about  in  the 
dark,  and  then — sunrise!  And  there's  a  queer 
feeling  here.  {He  puts  his  hand  on  his  heart) 
To  tell  the  honest  truth,  there's  a  still  queerer 

12 


SWEET  AND  TWENTY 


feeling  in  the  pit  of  my  stomach.  It's  a  gone 
feeling,  if  you  must  know.  And  my  knees  are 
weak.  I  know  now  why  men  used  to  fall  on 
their  knees  when  they  told  a  girl  they  loved 
her;  it  was  because  they  couldn't  stand  up. 
And  there's  a  feeling  in  my  feet  as  though  I 
were  walking  on  air.  And — 
SHE  {faintly) 
That's  enough! 

HE 

And  I  could  die  for  you  and  be  glad  of  the 
chance.  It's  perfectly  absurd,  but  it's  abso- 
lutely true.  I've  never  spoken  to  you  before, 
and  heaven  knows  I  may  never  get  a  chance  to 
speak  to  you  again,  but  I'd  never  forgive  my- 
self if  I  didn't  say  this  to  you  now.  I  love 
you!  love  you!  love  you!  Now  tell  me  I'm  a 
fool.  Tell  me  to  go.  Anything — I've  said  my 
say.     .     .     .     Why  don't  you  speak  .^ 

SHE 

I — I've  nothing  to  say — except — except  that  I 
— well —  {almost  inaudibly)  I  feel  some  of  those 
symptoms  myself. 
HE  {triumphantly) 
You  love  me! 

SHE 

I — don't  know.    Yes.    Perhaps. 

HE 

Then  kiss  me! 
SHE   {doubtfully) 
No.     .     .     . 

HE 

Kiss  me! 

13 


SWEET  AND  TWENTY 


SHE  (tormentedly) 
Oh,  what's  the  use? 

HE 

I  don't  know.  I  don't  care.  I  only  know  that 
we  love  each  other. 

SHE 

{after  a  moment's  hesitation^  desperately)  I  don't 
care,  either!  I  do  want  to  kiss  you.  {She  does. 
.     .     .     He  is  the  first  to  awake  from  the  ecstasy.) 

HE 

It  is  wicked — 
SHE  {absently) 
Is  it? 

HE 

But,  oh  heaven!  kiss  me  again!     {She  does.) 

SHE 

Darling! 

HE 

Do  you  suppose  anyone  is  likely  to  come  this 
way? 

SHE 

No. 
HE  {speculatively)    Your  husband  is  probably  still 
in  the  portrait  gallery.     .     .     . 

SHE 

My  husband!  {Drawing  away)  What  do  you 
mean?  {Thoroughly  awake  now)  You  didn't 
think — ?  {She  jumps  up  and  laughs  convul- 
sively) He  thought  poor  old  Tubby  was  my 
husband!! 

HE 

{staring  up  at  her  bewildered)  Why,  isn't  he 
your  husband? 

14 


SWEET  AND  TWENTY 


SHE  {scornfully) 
No!!    He's  my  uncle! 

HE 

Your  unc — 

SHE 

Yes,  of  course !    {Indignantly)    Do  you  suppose 
I  would  be  married  to  a  man  that's  fat  and  bald 
and  forty  years  old? 
HE  {distressed) 

I — I  beg  your  pardon.     I  did  think  so. 

SHE 

Just  because  you  saw  me  with  him?  How 
ridiculous! 

HE 

It  was  a  silly  mistake.  But — the  things  you  said ! 
You  spoke  so — realistically — about  marriage. 

SHE 

It  was  your  marriage  I  was  speaking  about. 
{With  hasty  compunction)     Oh,  I  beg  your — 

HE 

My  marriage!  {He  rises)  Good  heavens!  And 
to  whom,  pray,  did  you  think  I  was  married? 
{A  light  dawning)  To  Maria?  Why,  Maria  is 
my  aunt! 

SHE 

Yes — of  course.     How  stupid  of  me. 

HE 

Let's  get  this  straight.  Are  you  married  to 
anybody? 

SHE 

Certainly  not.  As  if  I  would  let  anybody  make 
love  to  me  if  I  were! 

15 


SWEET  AND  TWENTY 


HE 

Now  don't  put  on  airs.  You  did  something 
quite  as  improper.    You  kissed  a  married  man. 

SHE 

I  didn't. 

HE 

It's  the  same  thing.    You  thought  I  was  married. 

SHE 

But  you  arenU. 

HE 

No.  I'm  not  married.  And — and — you  re  not 
married.  {The  logic  of  the  situation  striking  him 
all  of  a  sudden)  In  fact — !  {He  pauses ^  rather 
alarmed^ 

SHE 

Yes? 

HE 

In  fact — well — there's  no  reason  in  the  world 
why  we  shouldn't  make  love  to  each  other! 

SHE 

{equally  startled)    Why — that's  so! 

HE 

Then — then — shall  we? 

SHE 

{sitting  down  and  looking  demurely  at  her  toes) 
Oh,  not  if  you  don't  want  to! 

HE 

{adjusting  himself  to  the  situation)  Well — under 
the  circumstances — I  suppose  I  ought  to  begin 
by  asking  you  to  marry  me.     .     .     . 

SHE 

{languidly y  with  a  provoking  glance)  You  don't 
seem  very  anxious  to. 

i6 


SWEET  AND  TWENTY 


HE 

{feeling  at  a  disadvantage^     It  isn't  that — but — 
well — 
SHE  {lightly) 
Well  what? 

HE 

Dash  it  all,  I  don't  know  your  name! 

SHE 

{looking  at  him  with  wild  curiosity)    That  didn't 

seem  to  stop  you  a  while  ago.     .     .     . 
HE  {doggedly) 

Well,  then — will  you  marry  me? 
SHE  {promptly) 

No. 
HE  {surprised) 

No!    Why  do  you  say  that? 

SHE  {coolly) 

Why  should   I   marry   you?     I   know  nothing 

about  you.     I've  known  you  for  less  than  an 

hour. 
HE  {sardonically) 

That  fact  didn't  seem  to  keep  you  from  kissing 

me. 

SHE 

Besides — I  don't  like  the  way  you  go  about  it. 
If  you'd  propose  the  same  way  you  made  love 
to  me,  maybe  I'd  accept  you. 

HE 

All  right.  {Dropping  on  one  knee  before  her) 
Beloved!  {An  awkward  pause)  No,  I  can't  do 
it.  {He  gets  up  and  distractedly  dusts  off  his 
knees  with  his  handkerchief)     I'm  very  sorry. 

17 


SWEET  AND  TWENTY 


SHE 

{with  calm  inquiry)     Perhaps  it's  because  you 

don't  love  me  any  more? 
HE  {fretfully) 

Of  course  I  love  you ! 
SHE  {coldly) 

But  you  don't  want  to  marry  me.     ...     I 

see. 

HE 

Not  at  all!    I  do  want  to  marry  you.     But — 

SHE 

Well? 

HE 

Marriage  is  a  serious  matter.  Now  don't  take 
offense!  I  only  meant  that — well —  {He  starts 
again)  We  are  in  love  with  each  other,  and 
that's  the  important  thing.  But,  as  you  said, 
we  don't  know  each  other.  Tve  no  doubt  that 
when  we  get  acquainted  we  will  like  each  other 
better  still.  But  we've  got  to  get  acquainted 
first. 

SHE  {rising) 

You're  just  like  Tubby  buying  a  house.  You 
want  to  know  all  about  it.  Well!  I  warn  you 
that  you'll  never  know  all  about  me.  So  you 
needn't  try. 

HE  {apologetically) 

It  was  your  suggestion. 

SHE   {impatiently) 

Oh,  all  right!  Go  ahead  and  cross-examine  me 
if  you  like.  I'll  tell  you  to  begin  with  that  I'm 
perfectly  healthy,  and  that  there's  no  T.  B., 

i8 


SWEET  AND  TWENTY 


insanity,  or  Socialism  in  my  family.    What  else 
do  you  want  to  know? 
HE  {hesitantly) 

Why  did  you  put  Socialism  in  ? 

SHE 

Oh,  just  for  fun.     You  aren't  a  Socialist,  are 


you? 


HE 


Yes.    {Earnestly)    Do  you  know  what  Socialism 


IS? 


SHE  {innocently) 

It's  the  same  thing  as  Anarchy,  isn't  it? 

HE  {gently) 

No.  At  least  not  my  kind.  I  believe  in  mu- 
nicipal ownership  of  street  cars,  and  all  that 
sort  of  thing.    I'll  give  you  some  books  to  read 

SHE 

Well,  I  never  ride  in  street  cars,  so  I  don't  care 
whether  they're  municipally  owned  or  not.  By 
the  way,  do  you  dance? 

HE 

No. 


SHE 


You  must  learn  right  away.  I  can't  bother  to 
teach  you  myself,  but  I  know  where  you  can 
get  private  lessons  and  become  really  good  in 
a  month.  It  is  stupid  not  to  be  able  to 
dance. 


HE 


{as  if  he  had  tasted  quinine)     I  can  see  myself 
doing  the  tango!    Grr! 


SHE 


The  tango  went  out  long  ago,  my  dear, 

19 


SWEET  AND  TWENTY 


HE 

{with  great  decision)  Well — I  wont  learn  to 
dance.  You  might  as  well  know  that  to  begin 
with. 

SHE 

And  I  won^t  read  your  old  books  on  Socialism. 
You  might  as  well  know  that  to  begin  with! 

HE 

Come,  come!  This  will  never  do.  You  see, 
my  dear,  it's  simply  that  I  cant  dance,  and 
there's  no  use  for  me  to  try  to  learn. 

SHE 

Anybody  can  learn.  Tve  made  expert  dancers 
out  of  the  awkwardest  men! 

HE 

But,  you  see,  I've  no  inclination  toward  danc- 
ing.   It's  out  of  my  world. 

SHE 

And  I've  no  inclination  toward  municipal  owner- 
ship.   Ifs  out  of  my  world! 

HE 

It  ought  not  to  be  out  of  the  world  of  any  in- 
telligent person. 

SHE 

{turning  her  back  on  him)  All  right — if  you  want 
to  call  me  stupid! 

HE 

{turning  and  looking  away  meditatively)  It  ap- 
pears that  we  have  very  few  tastes  in  common. 

SHE 

{tapping  her  foot)    So  it  seems. 

HE 

If  we  married  we  might  be  happy  for  a  month — 

20 


SWEET  AND  TWENTY 


SHE 

Perhaps.  {They  remain  standing  with  their  backs 
to  each  other ^ 

HE 

And  then — the  old  story.    Quarrels.     .     .     . 

SHE 

I  never  could  bear  quarrels.     ... 

HE 

An  unhappy  marriage.     .     .     . 

SHE 

(realizing  it)    Oh! 

HE 

{hopelessly  turning  toward  her)  I  can't  marry  you. 

SHE 

{recovering  quickly  and  facing  him  with  a  smile) 
Nobody  asked  you,  sir,  she  said! 

HE 

{with  a  gesture  of  finality)     Well — there  seems 

to  be  no  more  to  say. 
SHE  {sweetly) 

Except  good-bye. 
HE  (firmly) 

Good-bye,  then.     {He  holds  out  his  hand?) 

SHE 

{taking  it)    Good-bye! 

HE 

{taking  her  other  hand — after  a  pause,  helplessly) 
Good-bye! 

SHE 

{drawing  in  his  eyes)  Good-bye!  {They  cling 
to  each  other,  and  are  presently  lost  in  a  pas- 
sionate embrace.  He  breaks  loose  and  stamps 
away,  then  turns  to  her.) 

21 


SWEET  AND  TWENTY 


HE 

Damn  it  all,  we  do  love  each  other! 

SHE 

{wiping  her  eyes)    What  a  pity  that  is  the  only- 
taste  we  have  in  common! 

HE 

Do  you  suppose  that  is  enough? 

SHE 

I  wish  it  were! 

HE 

A  month  of  happiness — 

SHE 

Yes! 

HE 

And  then — wretchedness. 

SHE 

No — never ! 

HE 

We  mustn't  do  it. 

SHE 

I  suppose  not. 

HE 

Come,  let  us  control  ourselves. 

SHE 

Yes,  let's.     {They  take  hands  again ^ 

HE 

{with  an  efort)     I  wish  you  happiness.     I — I'll 
go  to  Europe  for  a  year.    Try  to  forget  me. 

SHE 

I  shall  be  married  when  you  get  back — perhaps. 

HE 

I  hope  it's  somebody  that's  not  bald  and  fat 
and  forty.    Otherwise — ! 

22 


SWEET  AND  TWENTY 


SHE 

And  you — for  goodness  sake!  marry  a  girl  that's 
very  young  and  very,  very  pretty.  That  will  help. 

HE 

We  mustn't  prolong  this.  If  we  stay  together 
another  minute — 

SHE 

Then  go! 

HE 

I  can't  go! 

SHE 

You  must,  darling!    You  must! 

HE 

Oh,  if  somebody  would  only  come  along!  {They 
are  leaning  toward  each  other ^  dizzy  upon  the 
brink  of  another  kiss,  when  somebody  does  come — 
a  short,  mild-looking  man  in  a  Derby  hat.  There 
is  an  odd  gleam  in  his  eyes). 

THE  INTRUDER  {s  tar  tied) 

Excuse  me!  {They  turn  and  stare  at  him,  but 
their  hands  cling  fast  to  each  other.) 

SHE  {faintly) 
The  Agent! 

THE    AGENT 

{in  despairing  accents)    Too  late !   Too  late ! 

THE    YOUNG    MAN 

No!    Just  in  time! 

THE    AGENT 

Too  late,  I  say!    I  will  go.     {He  turns ^ 

THE    YOUNG    MAN 

No!     Stay! 

23 


SWEET  AND  TWENTY 


THE    AGENT 

What's  the  use?  It  has  already  begun.  What 
good  can  I  do  now? 

THE    YOUNG    MAN 

I'll  show  you  what  good  you  can  do  now.  Come 
here!  {The  Agent  approaches)  Can  you  un- 
loose my  hands  from  those  of  this  young  woman  ? 

THE    YOUNG    WOMAN 

{haughtily  releasing  herself  and  walking  away) 
You  needn't  trouble!     I  can  do  it  myself. 

THE    YOUNG    MAN 

Thank  you.  It  was  utterly  beyond  my  power. 
{To  the  Agent)  Will  you  kindly  take  hold  of 
me  and  move  me  over  there?  {The  Agent  propels 
him  away  from  the  girl)  Thank  you.  At  this 
distance  I  can  perhaps  make  my  farewell  in  a 
seemly  and  innocuous  manner. 

THE    AGENT 

Young  man,  you  will  not  say  farewell  to  that 
young  lady  for  ten  days — and  perhaps  never! 

THE    YOUNG    WOMAN 

What! 

THE    AGENT 

They  have  arranged  it  all. 

THE    YOUNG    MAN 

Who  has  arranged  what? 

THE    AGENT 

Your  aunt.  Miss  Brooke — and  {to  the  young 
wo?nan)  your  uncle,  Mr.  Egerton —  {The  young 
people  turn  and  stare  at  each  other  in  amazement.) 

THE    YOUNG    MAN 

Egerton!    Are  you  Helen  Egerton? 

24 


SWEET  AND  TWENTY 


HELEN 

And  are  you  George  Brooke? 

THE    AGENT 

Your  aunt  and  uncle  have  just  discovered  each 
other  up  at  the  house,  and  they  have  arranged 
for  you  all  to  take  dinner  together  to-night,  and 
then  go  to  a  ten-day  house-party  at  Mr.  Eger- 
ton's  place  on  Long  Island.  {Grimly)  The 
reason  of  all  this  will  be  plain  to  you.  They 
want  you  two  to  get  married. 

GEORGE 

Then  we're  done  for!  We'll  have  to  get  mar- 
ried now  whether  we  want  to  or  not! 

HELEN 

What!     Just  to  please  them?     I  shan't  do  it! 
GEORGE   {gloomily) 

You  don't  know  my  Aunt  Maria. 

HELEN 

And  Tubby  will  try  to  bully  me,  I  suppose. 
But  I  won't  do  it — no  matter  what  he  says! 

THE    AGENT 

Pardon  what  may  seem  an  impertinence.  Miss; 
but  is  it  really  true  that  you  don't  want  to  marry 
this  young  man? 

HELEN  {flaming) 

I  suppose  because  you  saw  me  in  his  arms — ! 
Oh,  I  want  to,  all  right,  but — 

THE   AGENT    {mildly) 

Then  what  seems  to  be  the  trouble  ? 

HELEN 

I — oh,  you  explain  to  him,  George.  {She  goes 
to  the  bench  and  sits  down.) 

25 


SWEET  AND  TWENTY 


GEORGE 

Well,  it's  this  way.  As  you  may  have  deduced 
from  what  you  saw,  we  are  madly  in  love  with 
each  other — 

HELEN 

{from  the  bench)  But  Fm  not  madly  in  love 
with  municipal  ownership.  That's  the  chief 
difficulty. 

GEORGE 

No,  the  chief  difficulty  is  that  I  refuse  to  enter- 
tain even  a  platonic  affection  for  the  tango. 
HELEN  {irritably) 

I  told  you  the  tango  had  gone  out  long  ago! 

GEORGE 

Well,  then,  the  maxixe. 

HELEN 

Stupid! 

GEORGE 

And  there  you  have  it!  No  doubt  it  seems 
ridiculous  to  you. 

THE  AGENT  {gravcly) 

Not  at  all,  my  boy.  I've  known  marriage  to 
go  to  smash  on  far  less  than  that.  When  you 
come  to  think  of  it,  a  taste  for  dancing  and  a 
taste  for  municipal  ownership  stand  at  the  two 
ends  of  the  earth  away  from  each  other.  They 
represent  two  different  ways  of  taking  life. 
And  if  two  people  who  live  in  the  same  house 
can't  agree  on  those  two  things,  they'd  disagree 
on  ten  thousand  things  that  came  up  every  day. 
And  what's  the  use  for  two  different  kinds  of 
beings  to  try  to  live  together?    It  doesn't  work, 

26 


SWEET  AND  TWENTY 


no  matter  how  much  love  there  is  between 
them. 

GEORGE 

{rushing  up  to  him  in  surprise  and  gratification^ 
and  shaking  his  hand  warmly)  Then  you're 
our  friend.    You  will  help  us  not  to  get  married! 

THE    AGENT 

Your  aunt  is  very  set  on  it — and  your  uncle, 
too.  Miss! 

HELEN 

We  must  find  some  way  to  get  out  of  it,  or 
they'll  have  us  cooped  up  together  in  that 
house  before  we  know  it.  (Rising  and  coming 
over  to  the  Agent)  Can't  you  think  up  some 
scheme? 

THE    AGENT 

Perhaps  I  can,  and  perhaps  I  can't.  I'm  a 
bachelor  myself.  Miss,  and  that  means  that 
I've  thought  up  many  a  scheme  to  get  out  of 
marriage  myself. 

HELEN  (outraged) 
You  old  scoundrel! 

THE    AGENT 

Oh,  it's  not  so  bad  as  you  may  think,  Miss. 
I've  always  gone  through  the  marriage  cere- 
mony to  please  them.  But  that's  not  what  I 
call  marriage. 

GEORGE 

Then  what  do  you  call  marriage? 

HELEN 

Yes,  I'd  like  to  know! 

27 


SWEET  AND  TWENTY 


THE    AGENT 

Marriage,  my  young  friends,  is  an  iniquitous 
arrangement  devised  by  the  Devil  himself  for 
driving  all  the  love  out  of  the  hearts  of  lovers. 
They  start  out  as  much  in  love  with  each  other 
as  you  two  are  to-day,  and  they  end  by  being 
as  sick  of  the  sight  of  each  other  as  you  two  will 
be  twenty  years  hence  if  I  don't  find  a  way  of 
saving  you  alive  out  of  the  Devil's  own  trap. 
It's  not  lack  of  love  that's  the  trouble  with  mar- 
riage— it's  marriage  itself.  And  when  I  say 
marriage,  I  don't  mean  promising  to  love, 
honor,  and  obey,  for  richer,  for  poorer,  in  sick- 
ness and  in  health  till  death  do  you  part — 
that's  only  human  nature  to  wish  and  to  at- 
tempt. And  it  might  be  done  if  it  weren't  for 
the  iniquitous  arrangement  of  marriage. 

GEORGE    {puzzled) 

But  what  is  the  iniquitous  arrangement? 

THE    AGENT 

Ah,  that's  the  trouble!  If  I  tell  you,  you  won't 
believe  me.  You'll  go  ahead  and  try  it  out, 
and  find  out  what  all  the  unhappy  ones  have 
found  out  before  you.  Listen  to  me,  my  chil- 
dren. Did  you  ever  go  on  a  picnic?  {He  looks 
from  one  to  the  other — they  stand  astonished  and 
silent)  Of  course  you  have.  Everyone  has. 
There  is  an  instinct  in  us  which  makes  us  go 
back  to  the  ways  of  our  savage  ancestors — to 
gather  about  a  fire  in  the  forest,  to  cook  meat 
on  a  pointed  stick,  and  eat  it  with  our  fingers. 
But  how  many  books  would  you  write,  young 
man,  if  you  had  to  go  back  to  the  camp-fire 

28 


SWEET  AND  TWENTY 


every  day  for  your  lunch?  And  how  many  new 
dances  would  you  invent  if  you  lived  eternally 
in  the  picnic  stage  of  civilization?  No!  the 
picnic  is  incompatible  with  everyday  living. 
As  incompatible  as  marriage. 

GEORGE 

But— 

HELEN 

But— 

THE    AGENT 

Marriage  is  the  nest-building  instinct,  turned 
by  the  Devil  himself  into  an  institution  to  hold 
the  human  soul  in  chains.  The  whole  story  of 
marriage  is  told  in  the  old  riddle;  "Why  do 
birds  in  their  nests  agree?  Because  if  they 
don't,  they'll  fall  out."  That's  it.  Marriage 
is  a  nest  so  small  that  there  is  no  room  in  it  for 
disagreement.  Now  it  may  be  all  right  for  birds 
to  agree,  but  human  beings  are  not  built  that 
way.  They  disagree,  and  home  becomes  a  little 
hell.  Or  else  they  do  agree,  at  the  expense  of 
the  soul's  freedom  stifled  in  one  or  both. 

HELEN 

Yes,  but  tell  me — 

GEORGE 

Ssh! 

THE    AGENT 

Yet  there  is  the  nest-building  instinct.  You 
feel  it,  both  of  you.  If  you  don't  now,  you  will 
as  soon  as  you  are  married.  If  you  are  fools, 
you  will  try  to  live  all  your  lives  in  a  love-nest; 
and  you  will  imprison  your  souls  within  it,  and 
the  Devil  will  laugh. 

29 


SWEET  AND  TWENTY 


HELEN 

{to  George)    I  am  beginning  to  be  afraid  of  him. 

GEORGE 

So  am  I. 

THE    AGENT 

If  you  are  wise,  you  will  build  yourselves  a 
little  nest  secretly  in  the  woods,  away  from 
civilization,  and  you  will  run  away  together  to 
that  nest  whenever  you  are  in  the  mood.  A 
nest  so  small  that  it  will  hold  only  two  beings 
and  one  thought — the  thought  of  love.  And 
then  you  will  come  back  refreshed  to  civiliza- 
tion, where  every  soul  is  different  from  every 
other  soul — you  will  let  each  other  alone,  forget 
each  other,  and  do  your  own  work  in  peace. 
Do  you  understand? 

HELEN 

He  means  we  should  occupy  separate  sides  of 
the  house,  I  think.    Or  else  that  we  should  live 
apart  and  only  see  each  other  on  week-ends. 
I'm  not  sure  which. 
THE  AGENT  {passiofiately) 

I  mean  that  you  should  not  stifle  love  with 
civilization,  nor  encumber  civilization  with  love. 
What  have  they  to  do  with  each  other?  You 
think  you  want  a  fellow  student  of  economics. 
You  are  wrong.  You  think  you  want  a  dancing 
partner.  You  are  mistaken.  You  want  a 
revelation  of  the  glory  of  the  universe. 

HELEN 

(to  George^  confidentially)  It's  blithering  non- 
sense, of  course.  But  it  was  something  like 
that — a  while  ago. 

30 


SWEET  AND  TWENTY 


GEORGE   [bewilderedly) 

Yes;  when  we  knew  it  was  our  iirst  kiss  and 
thought  it  was  to  be  our  last. 

THE  AGENT  {fiercely) 

A  kiss  is  always  the  first  kiss  and  the  last — or 
it  is  nothing. 

HELEN   {conclusively) 
He's  quite  mad. 

GEORGE 

Absolutely. 

THE    AGENT 

Mad?  Of  course  I  am  mad.  But —  {He  turns 
suddenly^  and  subsides  as  a  man  in  a  guard* s 
uniform  enters.) 

THE    GUARD 

Ahj  here  you  are!  Thought  you'd  given  us 
the  slip,  did  you?  {To  the  others)  Escaped 
from  the  Asylum,  he  did,  a  week  ago,  and  got  a 
job  here.  We've  been  huntin'  him  high  and 
low.     Come  along  now! 

GEORGE 

{recovering  with  difficulty  the  power  of  speech) 
What — what's  the  matter  with  him? 

GUARD 

Matter  with  him?  He  went  crazy,  he  did, 
readin'  the  works  of  Bernard  Shaw.  And  if  he 
wasn't  in  the  insane  asylum  he'd  be  in  jail.  He's 
a  bigamist,  he  is.  He  married  fourteen  women. 
But  none  of  'em  would  go  on  the  witness  stand 
against  him.  Said  he  was  an  ideal  husband, 
they  did.  Fourteen  of  'em!  But  otherwise  he's 
perfectly  harmless.     Come  now! 

31 


SWEET  AND  TWENTY 


THE  AGENT  (^pleasantly) 

Perfectly  harmless!  Yes,  perfectly  harmless! 
(He  is  led  out.) 

HELEN 

That  explains  it  all! 

GEORGE 

Yes — and  yet  I  feel  there  was  something  in 
what  he  was  saying. 

HELEN 

Well — are  we  going  to  get  married  or  not? 
We've  got  to  decide  that  before  we  face  my 
uncle  and  your  aunt. 

GEORGE 

Of  course  we'll  get  married.  You  have  your 
work  and  I  mine,  and — 

HELEN 

Well,  if  we  do,  then  you  can't  have  that  sunny 
south  room  for  a  study.  I  want  it  for  the 
nursery. 

GEORGE 

The  nursery! 

HELEN 

Yes;  babies,  you  know! 

GEORGE 

Good  heavens! 


[curtain] 


32 


MORE   SHORT   PLAYS 

By  MARY  MacMILLAN 

Plays  that  act  well  may  read  well.  Miss  MacMIUan's 
Plays  are  good  reading.  Nor  is  literary  excellence  a  detriment 
to  dramatic  performance. 

This  volume  contains  eight  Plays: 

His  Second  Girl.  One-act  comedy,  just  before  the  Civil  War. 
Interior,  45  minutes.    Three  women,  three  men. 

At  the  Church  Door.  Fantastic  farce,  one  act,  20  to  30  minutes. 
Interior.    Present.    Two  women,  two  men. 

Honey.  Four  short  acts.  Present,  in  the  southern  mountains. 
Same  interior  cabin  scene  throughout.  Three  women,  one 
man,  two  girls. 

The  Dress  Rehearsal  of  Hamlet.  One-act  costume  farce. 
Present.  Interior.  Forty-five  minutes.  Ten  women  taking 
men's  parts. 

The  Pioneers.  Five  very  short  acts.  179 1  in  Middle-West. 
Interior.    Four  men,  five  women,  five  children,  five  Indians. 

In  Mendelesia,  Part  I.  Costume  play.  Middle  Ages.  Interior. 
Thirty  minutes  or  more.    Four  women,  one  man-servant. 

In  Mendelesia,  Part  II.  Modern  realism  of  same  plot.  One 
act.  Present.  Interior.  Thirty  minutes.  Four  women,  one 
maid-servant. 

The  Dryad.  Fantasy  in  free  verse,  one  act.  Thirty  minutes. 
Outdoors.    Two  women,  one  man.    Present. 

These  plays,  as  well  as  SHORT  PLAYS,  have  been  pre- 
sented by  clubs  and  schools  in  Boston,  New  York,  Buffalo, 
Detroit,  Cleveland,  New  Orleans,  San  Francisco,  etc.,  and  by 
the  Portmanteau  Theatre,  the  Chicago  Art  Institute  Theatre, 
the  Denver  Little  Art  Theatre,  at  Carmel-by-the-Sea  in 
California,  etc. 

Handsomely  hound  and  uniform  with  S.  &  K.  Dramatic  Series. 
i2mo.     Cloth.     Net,  $2.50;  3^  Turkey  Morocco,  Net,  $8.30. 


STEWART 

Publishers 


&   KIDD    COMPANY 

Cincinnati,  U.  S.  A. 


Stewart  Kidd  Modern  Plays 

Edited  by   Frank  Shay 

T^O  MEET  the  immensely  increased  de- 
-*-  mands  of  the  play-reading  public  and  those 
interested  in  the  modern  drama,  Stewart  &  Kidd 
Company  are  issuing  under  the  general  editor- 
ship of  Frank  Shay  a  series  of  plays  from  the 
pens  of  the  world's  best  contemporary  writers. 
No  effort  is  being  spared  to  secure  the  best 
work  available,  and  the  plays  are  issued  in  a 
form  that  is  at  once  attractive  to  readers  and 
suited  to  the  needs  of  the  performer  and 
producer. 

From  time  to  time  special  announcements  will 
be  printed  giving  complete  lists  of  the  Plays. 
Those  announced  thus  far  are: 

SHAM,  a  Social  Satire  in  One  Act. 
By  Frank  G.  Tompkins. 
Originally  produced  by    Sam  Hume,    at  the 
Arts  and  Crafts  Theatre,  Detroit. 

THE  SHEPHERD  IN  THE  DISTANCE, 

a  Pantomime  in  One  Act.  By  Holland  Hudson. 
Originally  produced  by  the  Washington  Square 
Players. 

MANSIONS,  a  Play  in  One  Act. 
By  Hildegarde  Planner. 
Originally   produced    by    the    Indiana   Little 
Theatre  Society. 

HEARTS  TO  MEND,  a  Fantasy  in  One  Act. 
By  H.  A.  Overstreet. 

Originally  produced  by  the  Fireside  Players, 
White  Plains,  N.  Y. 

Others  to  follow. 
Bound  in  Art  Paper,    Each  net  50  cents. 


CD31imoOE 


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